Sing with me, Please
by lorelei.glee
Summary: Rewritten. Future fic, Au From Grilled Cheesus. Burt didn't survive the heart attack and there was only so much Kurt could do without him. Now...well, let's say he's not what he once had wanted to be. And then? A chance at life, a reunion, a chance at love...
1. Chapter 1

**So…yeah. I'm rewriting this one, too. I hope you guys read it and like it and let me know what you think. I'll try to be much more constant with the updates than I was before and I hope you forgive me for just deleting the story without warning anyone. I want to warn you that it will be **_**different **_**although the main idea it's basically the same. Enjoy**

People were disgusting.

Well, actually, not everyone. The people that attended 'La Trampa' were all disgusting, though. Really mean, annoying and disgusting.

Kurt didn't like that particular bar, but after he'd quitted from the previous job because of his boss' very unwanted advances, he'd been forced get into the first hole that would take him in.

"C'mon, princess…just a tiny little kiss" The man leered, pointing at his crotch. Kurt cringed in disgust, but otherwise ignored his comment. And even when the place had clientele like that particular one, 'La Trampa' was still better than his previous job, mainly because Mr. Roberts, his boss, was a nice man that actually gave a damn about his employees and who hadn't touched him inappropriately in the three months he had been working with hm.

"Piss off, you disgusting creep." Rosalie sneered. She was a pretty woman. Her red hair reached her waist, her long legs looked absolutely perfect all bare with those short skirts she liked to wear and her heels made her look absolutely stunning. The man turned around to glare at her, but he quickly gave up, it was well-known just how protective the bar could be towards the people that worked there.

"Thank you, Rose" Kurt told her flatly, picking up yet another broken glass. She smiled. Her red lips contrasted beautifully with her white teeth and he, once again, wondered how someone that beautiful could be wasting her life in a poorly-paid job in a shitty such a shitty place.

"No prob, babe, I hate those creeps"

"I could see that" He said simply. She opened her mouth, probably to start some sort of conversation, but Kurt scurried away before a word could leave her lips.

Life had not turned out like Kurt had planned it to.

He wasn't a Broadway star.

He did not have his own line of clothing.

He wasn't famous.

He wasn't rich.

He wasn't even _happy._

And at first he had dared to think that it was so _fucking _unfair because he had fought so hard, he had kicked and scratched and bitten–

–but at the end he had had to accept that maybe he simply wasn't meant for those things. That maybe some people were born to live meaningless lives and that no one owed him anything, so fairness had nothing to do with how his life had turned out.

After his dad had died from that one heart-attack in his junior year of high school, Kurt's life had made a turn for the worse. After his father was buried, he had been informed that he would be moving in with Carole, his father's girlfriend at the time. They didn't give him time to protest, to say anything, he didn't even have time to mourn his father before his house was sold and all his things were moved to Carole's place.

He tried, he tried so, _so _hard, but after that life was simply not the same anymore. He pushed everyone away and those that resisted…well, he simply pulled away. He mostly stopped talking, stopped going out, he quite glee club –even if he still loved singing and performing– and instead chose to focus on his studies. By the moment he became a senior, he had decided that dreaming of silly things like Broadway would get him nowhere and put all his energies into getting into fashion school–

–apparently, he wasn't good enough. He didn't get a scholarship and Parsons was too expensive for him to attend with just the fund his parents had left for his studies. Instead, he had to go to a mediocre –and that was being nice– school in New York in which he spent all his money but didn't achieve much of anything. He got his first –and, truth to be told, only– job in the fashion industry after graduating from college. It didn't last much, mostly because he managed to make his boss hate him on the first week, but he still decided that it would be a good idea to make a loan so he could study Business Management and maybe start his own line one day.

…well, considering that five years after that decision he was still stuck in 'La Trampa' and his day-time job in a grocery store, it was pretty safe to assume that his plan hadn't worked out.

He got out of work at four that morning, one hour later than usual, but that was fine, it meant he would get paid extra for that little hour he had to spend cleaning the place and that was always good news. His apartment was within walking distance and even though he didn't live in the nicest neighborhood, that was one aspect of his life in which he had always been lucky. He went to sleep that night with a headache pounding in his temples and when he woke up three hours later, he wasn't feeling much better.

He showered, had a small breakfast and then took the bus to go to his other job.

He had been working for three years at that particular grocery store.

And he hated it.

His boss had been hitting on him from day one and it was awful, but not as creepy as his problem with the other boss had been. When he wasn't commenting on how nice his ass look, he would insult him, call him names, throw things at him–

–but Kurt knew that he wouldn't survive with only his other's job salary, so he kept his mouth shut and did his job as perfectly as he could.

"Hey, Hummel. A kid threw up by line four, go clean it up" Mr. Clovis was short, fat and bald. He was a nasty man, but he was not dangerous. He was just a guy had had spent far too long locked up in a closet and all the hiding and lying had taken a toll on him. Kurt always repeated it to himself, almost like a mantra, because he knew he would get nothing from hating Mr. Clovis…but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes he just wanted to punch him and kick him and give up–

–he still wasn't sure why he hadn't.

Kurt ended up throwing up in the bathroom when he couldn't handle the sight of the kid's vomit.

Kurt would not have a way of knowing it at that moment, but his life was about to change. The events that would take place that night would be the turning point for his life and…well…It's always darkest before the dawn?

"He said that if I was sick I should just quit because he wasn't paying any medical bills" He told Richard, one of his coworkers, that night. Richard made a grimace that told him just how disgusted he felt and Kurt fought the urge to chuckle.

"You could sue him" Kurt shook his head.

"Why bother? I tried finding another job, but for such an 'accepting' and 'forward' city, New York still has its fair share of homophobes"

"I'm sorry to hear that, man" Richard told him sincerely. Kurt shrugged, it wasn't as bad as it sounded; he still had a roof over his head, food on his table and clothes to cover himself. None of those were particularly good, but something was better than nothing when it came to them. He opened his mouth to tell Richard as much, but then Rose appeared and told him that Mr. Roberts wanted to talk to him.

In that moment, Kurt thought that he was going to be fired for sure. His heart broke, his body froze and everything became really cold…but he pulled himself together and dragged his body towards Mr. Roberts' office. He ignored his peers' looks and instead chose to knock and get it over as soon as he could.

"Kurt, I'm glad you're here" Mr. Roberts told him, a kind smile on his lips.

"What did you need me for, sir?" He asked politely.

"You sing, right?" He asked, instead of answering. Kurt nodded, dubiously.

"Sorta'…I mean, I can carry a tune, but it's nothing spectacular or anything." He was surprised when Mr. Roberts just laughed.

"Don't be so modest, kid. I actually have an offer for you" And in the past, the word offer had never meant good things for Kurt. He decided, though, to give the man the benefit of the doubt and he gave him a curious glance. "My sister is a wedding planner…well, she is married to a wedding planner and along the way became her assistant. This wedding planner is kind of a big deal, nowadays, but somehow the managed to set everything up for this famous couple's wedding without finding a singer for the ceremony"

"A–I couldn't!"

"Oh, but you can! You see, the bride is a very peculiar woman" And peculiar was a very odd word to describe a woman, so Kurt decided to listen. "She insisted that she needed a singer at her weeding, but that it had to be a man, no older than 30, no younger than 25, preferably gay and with a certain inclination towards classics and musicals" Kurt's eyes widened. "We were having lunch on Monday when she told me this and I told her that I might just now the person…but that I had to ask him"

"You want me to–didn't you say this couple was famous?"

"Very. But for some reason, and here I'm gonna quote the bride, they decided to "defy gravity" and go against everything that Hollywood demanded of them and chose to go for a quite, small, just family and friends kind of wedding"

"What…what would I have to do?" And Kurt was almost too scared to ask because in the past he had been let down and he didn't think he could handle it again, not at that particular moment, but he was tired and he needed something, _anything. _

"The bride's vocal coach was asked to choose the person to sing at the wedding. He would come here, listen to you sing and then he would decide if he wants you to sing at the wedding." Kurt closed his eyes. It would have been so easy to let himself dream and think that he would be good enough…but well, it hadn't been easy to accept that he wasn't good enough for Broadway, not good enough for Parsons', not good enough for anything. He jumped when he felt Mr. Roberts' hand on his shoulder. "Look, kid, I'm not promising anything, but I think that you should give it a try…something good might come out of it" A moment of silence. Kurt wasn't even sure what he was thinking about…he was just…well, _silent. _He then sighed. What did he have to lose anymore?}

Mr. Roberts smiled when he heard his answer and for some reason the kind, almost paternal smile made Kurt want to be able to smile back.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Memories, like the corners of my mind. Misty water-colored memories." _Oh, the joy of singing. That little boy that had always loved to make music in any way possible had never really died, not the way the rest of him had after what had happened. It still sent a thrill through his body, a wave of happiness that Kurt had grown unaccustomed to. "_Smiles we gave to one another, for the way we were"_. At the end, Kurt had figured that it was the kind of situation where you went big or you went home. His mind, that part that was always there to remind him of the failure he'd become, had sufficiently stated just how arrogant and naïve it would be to sing a famous Barbra for such an important occasion. But Barbra, and the memories that came with her (memories of himself, making his dad watch Funny Girl; thoughts of Rachel Berry…mostly of Rachel Berry) made him feel safe and—well, less lonely, one would say.

He finished the song with a breathless giggle, a sound that he hadn't allowed himself to make in a long time, and with his eyes closed. He'd been so caught up in the song that he actually jumped when the applause started, his eyes opening as his mouth dropped open in surprise as well.

"Tell me, Mr. Hummel, what made you choose a Barbra song?" Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but he had to clear his throat because it was dry and achy and the rest of his body felt as though he might pass out. Mr. Gross, a medium-height guy with short, dark hair and small brown eyes, lifted an eyebrow, prompting him to answer.

"I—I like Barbra. And she—'The way we were' it's the kind of song one would consider a classic." Dumb Kurt, so dumb. Apparently his speech abilities always left him when he needed them the most. Mr. Gross probably thought he had some sort of mental deficiency, he wouldn't blame him, considering the way he'd stumbled through his answer.

"Do you know more Barbra songs?" Kurt nodded dumbly. "You can speak, child, it's okay" Kurt would have pointed out that Mr. Gross was probably not that much older than Kurt —probably just 8 or 9 years— but he figured he should use what little speech abilities he had left to actually convince Mr. Gross that he had a normal level of intelligence and that he would not embarrass him if for some twist of destiny he chose him.

"I love Barbra. I used to watch her movies all the time with my mom, before she died, and then with my dad. I'm— I know my voice it's not quite right for her songs, but I love them and they make me feel comfortable" He cleared his throat again and shuffled in his place uncomfortably. He blushed when his words made a small smile appear on Mr. Gross face.

"I think you made the right choice. I interviewed three guys before you and they all forgot about my subtle suggestions to sing something more—old fashioned, I guess. I must applaud you for your vocals, the song you chose and your whole performance" Kurt's blush intensified, but he gave the man, and his assistant, a shy smile.

"You broke my heart" The woman, Mr. Gross' wife and Mr. Roberts' sister, said with a small grin. "And Ian is right. We've had guys singing your typical wedding songs and although they were quite lovely and in any other case we would hire them without a second thought, the wide is very—" She hesitated and Kurt completed the sentence without thinking about it.

"Peculiar?" He blushed immediately after, but he figured it mustn't have been the wrong thing to say because Mr. and Mrs. Gross grinned and let out a short laugh.

"You could say that, indeed" Mr. Gross said. "I like you, kid. I really like you and I need a singer and if you're willing to work with our vocal couch I'd be more than happy to have you on board" It took a minute for Kurt to realize what the man just said. He opened his mouth but closed it again when he realized he had nothing to say.

"Really?" He finally whispered; his voice breathy with disbelief.

"Really. I think that the bride will adore you and I think we will be able to do fantastic things with your voice. But—the coach is a pain in the ass and you'd have to leave New York for the next couple of weeks so you can train and then to assist the wedding"

"I'd have no problem taking you back after, of course" Mr. Roberts supplied from his seat next to his sister. Kurt, once again, was left speechless, gaping in what had to be an accurate imitation of a fish and feeling like he hadn't woken up that morning. Mr. Gross leaned over to his wife to whisper something in her ear that made her smile; she pulled a small notebook out of her purse, scribbled something on it and stood up to walk towards him. He took the piece of paper she was offering after a moment of hesitating and then read what she'd written there. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open again as he looked up to stare at Mr. Gross.

"That's—"

"That's what the bride is willing to pay. It's a generous amount of money and you'd have food and anything else you might need throughout the time you spend in LA"

"I—if you think she'd be okay with me" he hated how he made that sound like a question. He did not want to make Mr. Gross think that he was making a mistake, and his insecurities would only make him look like a fool. Mr. Gross, though, did not look put out; instead, he grinned and finally stood up to go over to where Kurt was standing.

"Do we have a deal, Mr. Hummel?" Kurt, once again, was left speechless, and he had to settle for yet another dumb nod as he took the hand Mr. Gross was offering and shook it.

**|0|0|0|0|0|0|**

It had been a long time since the last time Kurt had been on a plane. Five years, to be precise. Sean, the coach that Mr. Gross had mentioned, was sitting next to him, looking bored with his headphones plugged in his ears and a magazine lying over his lap.

Mr. Gross had been right. Sean Lopez was a fucking nightmare that treated Kurt like shit—but he had learned a lot from him in the two days they had been working together. Sean had been in New York around the time Mr. Gross called him and he had said that he would prefer to work with Kurt there and find out if he was any good before they took him to LA. Apparently he did not enjoy the idea of losing his time on a talentless kid if he could help it, and he would have preferred not to waste any money on someone that wouldn't be worth their time.

He insulted him and made him feel like shit most of the time, but the fact that Kurt was sitting on a plane in that moment was a proof that the man did not really disliked him and he just held a scary resemblance to Sue Sylvester.

"_I do think that this could be a huge opportunity for you. For what I've gathered, there're gonna be some big names in both the fashion and the music industry in that wedding and this could be really __**it **__for you, Kurt" _Mr. Roberts had told him the day he finally quit his job. Kurt had almost protested, but a glare from the man had been enough to simply take the advice and shut up.

Kurt wasn't as sure as Mr. Roberts had been. He had been proved many times in the past that he was not especial and that he shouldn't expect much from his life. It sounded pessimistic and bitter, but he sort of figured he had the right to feel that way after the things he had gone through in the past. The question, though, was why someone would take an interest on him when they were attending a famous' wedding.

Kurt held back a sigh, simply because he knew that noise annoyed Sean and he preferred to have him quiet and slightly polite than insulting him.

"Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy" Sean snapped, pinching him in the arm. Kurt winced, but did not protest. "And those clothes won't do, sweetheart, we're gonna have to go shopping as soon as we get there"

"I don't have the money to buy clothes. I brought three suits for the wedding and the rest of my clothes will have to suffice because I won't waste money unnecessarily" Oh, how much had times changed? Who would have believed that Kurt Hummel would be saying that clothes were a waste of money? His young self would be so angry and disappointed—he smiled at the thought of a younger Kurt yelling at him for the clothes he was wearing. Young Kurt would have been appalled if he'd known that Kurt would eventually start wearing baggy jeans, t-shirts and sweaters from the GAP on a regular basis…he would be appalled indeed. But then again, he would probably be more angry at the fact that he was neither of the things he had said he would be in school and that was enough to wipe the smile off his face.

"Don't be stupid" Sean said with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand "You wouldn't have to spend any money. Gross told me that the bride would pay for anything we needed to make this work"

"We do not need clothes" Kurt said stubbornly, once again surprising himself.

"Oh, but we do. You are pretty, of course, but with those clothes you look pathetic and the last thing we need is to have the guest pitying you because you look like an starving child from Africa—even though you're white"

"You're rude" Kurt said with a pout, but decided that he would let him think that he'd won that time, simply because he did not want to argue.

"I never said I wasn't, dear, but I'm damn good at what I do, so I think I have the right" He said with a smug smirk. Yeah, Sean was a male version of Sue Sylvester. He was rude and arrogant and a fucking bastard that didn't have a mouth-filter, or at least did not know how or want to use it. He was what Kurt had thought he would be when he reached his age: flamboyant, irreverent, rich and appreciated in spite of all those things.

Kurt closed his eyes, choosing not to grant that comment with an answer, and allowed himself to fall asleep for what was left of the trip.


End file.
